


One A.M.

by autumnsolstice9



Series: Robb & Arya [4]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Gen, Minor Character Death, not starkcest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-31
Updated: 2016-12-31
Packaged: 2018-09-13 16:12:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9131803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/autumnsolstice9/pseuds/autumnsolstice9
Summary: things you said when you were drunk





	

Robb wakes up at one in the morning to his cellphone ringing. He answers without looking to see who called, snapping “What is it?” into the phone, his voice sharp. If there is anything Robb values, it’s his sleep.

“Robb!” a voice slurs on the other end, “Robb, I miss you!!!”

He takes a moment to check who he is actually on the phone with, cursing when he sees that it’s Arya. His sister may be small, but the girl could outdrink any man he knew, and she rarely got drunk, stating that she liked being in full control of her body.

If she was drunk, either some party was going really well, or things in her life were abysmal. “Sweet, dear, old Robb, my dear brother, please let me crash at your apartment,” she says, dragging out the ‘please’.

“Arya, you should go back home,” he tells her, his voice gentle but firm. 

He can picture the pout she’s probably doing perfectly in his head. “But Robb,” she whines, “I can’t go home!” Then she grows serious, and alarms go off in his mind. “Please Robb, can I stay over your apartment tonight,” and her voice is quiet, barely a whisper.

This scares him more than he’s willing to admit. For her to be drunk, unwilling to go home, and so serious while inebriated, something awful must have happened. The last time she had been like this, their father had just died.

Robb hopes that no one else has died.

“Yeah, Arya, you can stay the night. Do you want me to pick you up?”

“I’m already here,” and he can practically feel her smile through the phone, “I knew you’d let me in either way. Just open your door.”

And sure enough, when he opens the door, there she is. Her hair is falling out of it’s usually sleek ponytail, tiny curls forming around her face. Her eyes are red-rimmed, making her hazy gray eyes stand out even more, and there are tear tracks on her face.

Still, she smiles up at him, walking into his apartment and plopping onto his couch. “Ahh, there’s my favorite brother!” she says, as if there isn’t a care in the world.

“I’m not your favorite,” Robb laughs, closing the door and moving to get her a cup of water, “we all know that’s Jon.”

She doesn’t answer right away, unusual for the quick witted Arya, and Robb gently pushes the cup of water into her hand. “No, Robb, you’re my favorite brother now,” Arya whispers, her lip trembling, “Jon can’t be my favorite if he’s dead.” Then she bursts into tears, burying her face into her knees.

He feels his body go numb, taking in what she just said, and he feels his heart break in two. “Jon’s dead?”

Arya lets out a heart-wrenching sob, and it’s all the confirmation he needs. His brother is gone, and Robb feels like he can’t breath. The boy he grew up with, who he played with and rode bikes with, that boy is gone.

“What-” he begins, choking on his own voice, “what happened?”

His sister doesn’t answer, her small frame still wracked with sobs, but she finally speaks. “His squadron, bunch of racist fucks that they are, shot him. They hated that he wanted to help the refugees. They _murdered their commander because they disagreed_ ,” she spits out, venom dripping from her mouth.

“They killed him. They killed our brother. He was supposed to come home next month. We were going to visit Father’s grave together. We were going to spend each day together until we forgot we had even missed each other,” she says, her voice pure sadness, tears silently falling down her face.

“I was his emergency contact. They called me at 11, saying he was dying, that there was nothing they could do, and that he wanted to speak to me. And then, while I was on the phone with him, he died, and the only person I want to talk to about it, the one person who would understand how I feel, he’s gone. Jon’s dead. Jon’s dead and there’s nothing I can do about it.” She looks up from where she is sitting, staring straight at Robb, and he can see nothing but desperation in her eyes.

“I need another drink,” she mutters, and he does nothing to try to stop her as she rummages through his liquor cabinet, pouring drinks for the both of them. Robb can’t even begin to imagine how his sister feels. Her and Jon were practically joined at the hip, their bond so deep that they would often hold conversations without ever speaking.

There was no ‘Jon’ and there was no ‘Arya’, it was always ‘Jon and Arya’ or ‘Arya and Jon’, and now half of that was gone. However bad Robb was feeling, he knew his sister must be feeling ten times worse.

He could mourn Jon in the morning. Right now, he needed to be there for Arya.

Robb watched as she moved back to the couch, a two glasses and a bottle of whiskey in her shaking hands, and each step she took seemed tired. For the first time in her life, his spitfire sister seemed weary. Even when their father had died, she had more life to her than this. She had been incredibly depressed, but she was also awake and angry, ready to take on the world with her fists flying.

Now she seemed empty. 

She had already quickly finished a glass of whiskey and was well into another when Robb began speaking again. “What can I do to help you?”

Arya didn’t answer, instead staring desolately into space. “Arya,” he pleaded, “I want to help you.”

She snorted at that. “You’ve never cared about me before. You, and Sansa, and sometimes even Mother. Never cared. I don’t blame you for it, I know you love me, but Robb, I swear, if I disappeared, you’d never notice. And I thought about it a lot when I was younger. I wanted to run away all the time, go into the woods and find a group of nomads and join them. Who would notice if I left? Sansa doesn’t like me, so I doubt she’d even care, Bran might, but he barely leaves his room since the accident, and Rickon is so full of energy he can’t focus on anything. Mother would notice if someone pointed it out, but I’m not a priority. You wouldn’t notice. The only ones who would see and care would be Father and Jon, and they’re both gone now.”

Suddenly she was standing up, a slightly crazed look in her eyes. “Who do I have left now, Robb?” She grasped his arm, her hold surprisingly strong. “Who do I have left?”

Her eyes were locked on to his, desperate and scared. “You have me, Arya. I won’t let you be alone,” he told her, his voice earnest. He knew he hadn’t been there for her for a lot of her life, and realistically he knew close to nothing about his sister, but he hadn’t realized she thought he didn’t care.

Robb put his hand over where she was gripping his arm and gently pulled her into a hug, stroking her hair like he had once seen Jon do.

“I’ll never love anyone like I love him,” she said, her voice clogged with tears, her breath reeking of alcohol. “Robb, he was the only person who loved me for who I am, no strings attached. I’ll never love anyone like Jon.”

He continued to stroke her hair, making quiet shushing noises until she quieted, her body shaking. “I love you, Arya,” he whispered into her hair, trying to let her know that he was sorry he wasn’t a better brother, sorry that he didn’t take the time to know her, sorry that he didn’t love her without wanting something in return like a good brother should.

“I miss Jon,” she said in response.

“Yeah,” he sighed, eyes growing heavy, “I miss him, too.”

When they woke up the next morning, the world wasn’t any better, and he could tell that Arya’s grief was something that would take months to get rid of, but she gave him a small smile and he knew he would try harder to be there for her, to be a better brother. _It’s what Jon would have wanted. I’ll be there for her, like Jon would have asked me to._

They sat in silence for the rest of the day, plagued with loss and memories of a brother that they now only had memories of.


End file.
